I'm just a boy who can't say no

Is it true that there's no such thing as bad publicity? In the past month I've been doing absolutely everything I can to publicise my recently published book.

I've contributed to six television programmes, I've appeared on the radio at least a dozen times, I've been interviewed by six national newspapers and I've written countless articles, including one for The News of the World, one for The Mail on Sunday, two for The Independent on Sunday, three for The Observer and two - now three - for this newspaper. I've even done a piece for The Spectator about my addiction to pornography. If a television crew called tomorrow and asked me to dress up in a chicken suit and stand on Nelson's Column I think I'd do it.

But is it all worth it? In terms of book sales, the answer's yes. At one point last week, it was the second-highest selling paperback on Amazon.co.uk.

Some 10,000 copies have been shipped to UK booksellers since it appeared, with more than half of these attributable to all the publicity it's been getting, according to my publisher. Last week, How to Lose Friends and Alienate People - oops, another plug - entered the original paperback, non-fiction bestseller list at number 16. With a bit of luck it'll be doing even better when Book Track updates its charts today.

But what about the long-term impact on my reputation? I began to think this might not be so good when I bumped into Neil Hamilton at a party recently. After we'd been introduced, he pumped my hand enthusiastically and congratulated me on my press coverage. Jesus Christ, I thought. If the most notorious self-publicist in Britain thinks I'm doing well, perhaps it's time to start reining it in a bit.

This impression was confirmed when Private Eye ran a cartoon of me last week. It depicted a busty woman at a party talking to a middle-aged man with a double chin. "Toby Young?" runs the caption. "So you're the Toby Young you write so much about."

The most amusing publicity so far has been that connected with my expulsion from the Groucho Club. My crime was to include a chapter in my book about a cocaine-taking incident in the club involving Damien Hirst and Keith Allen. Since being thrown out, I ve been asked to appear on countless television and radio programmes to talk about London s cocaine epidemic , with the presenters invariably introducing me as notorious cocaine user .

I know the general rule about publicity is that you should weigh it rather than read it, but what if it weighs a gram and costs £60? Scotland Yard recently announced that they're going to come down hard on middle-class cocaine users. What if they decide to make an example of me? I can hardly protest my innocence when it's all there in black and white between the covers of my book.

When my wife, who's a trainee solicitor, heard I was planning to appear on yet another television programme to talk about cocaine last Friday she told me I was now indistinguishable from Jordan, the silicone-enhanced Page Three girl. "Is there nothing you won't stoop to?" she asked, despairingly. Well, yes, actually. I think I'd draw the line at getting breast implants. On the other hand, I did do a piece for GQ the other day that involved going for an undercover consultation with a penis-enlargement surgeon ...

Toby Young's book, priced £9.99, has had far too much publicity.